


the satellite that beams me home

by crownedcirce



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: BDSM, Dirty Talk, Dom Shiro (Voltron), Dom/sub, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Male presenting nipples, May Contain Traces of Nuts, Smut, consent is real sexy tbh, minor bdsm negotiation, safe words, slight humiliation, sprinkled angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-10-07 06:41:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17360939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crownedcirce/pseuds/crownedcirce
Summary: Shiro doesn’t look, he doesn’t check to see if Keith is standing where he left him. He doesn’t need to. The trust Keith has for Shiro is something they both have worked on. Keith needed someone to trust and Shiro had fought hard to earn it. Now, it’s undeniable.





	the satellite that beams me home

**Author's Note:**

> bout time i dip my toes in and actually contribute to this household, right? 
> 
> aye it's my first voltron fic and what better way to do this? i present to you: smut. 
> 
> the title of this fic comes from "black star" by radiohead. 
> 
> i'm not interested in any discourse, i'm too old and too busy tbh. 
> 
> you can find me on pillowfort, twitter, tumblr (yikes), and instagram @ punktsuki

“Stay, Keith.”

 

Shiro closes the door to their bedroom, locking it behind him. It isn’t that anybody else lived here, but there was a chance one of their overzealous neighbours might decide to let themselves in. They’ve been burned before. 

 

Shiro doesn’t look, he doesn’t check to see if Keith is standing where he left him. He doesn’t need to. The trust Keith has for Shiro is something they both have worked on. Keith needed someone to trust and Shiro had fought hard to earn it. Now, it’s undeniable. 

 

When Shiro turns, Keith is standing at the foot of their bed, his bare feet planted in the dark carpet. Shiro can’t help but smile as he notices the new coat of shiny black polish on his boyfriend’s toenails. Simple pleasures. He also can’t help the swell in his chest as he looks to see Keith’s head bowed, shaggy, dark strands of hair falling over his face, his hands clasped behind his back. Submission has already come over Keith and they haven’t even begun. It looks beautiful on him. Shiro’s heart thrums, a satellite transmitting signals out into the space between them, knowing that they’re silently detected and reciprocated.  

 

Shiro clears his throat, an attempt to break his emotional train of thought. It’s his job now to keep them in their scene. He’ll tell Keith how he feels after. Now though, Keith needs him to take charge, he needs to be taken out of his head. Shiro knows that he needs to be removed from the dark, the fear, the insecurity. Keith had acted out today. Not because he doesn’t trust Shiro, but because sometimes Keith needs reassurance. He needs Shiro to shake him out of his thoughts, to re-align his faith in himself and in this, in them. Shiro is to take charge while giving Keith the utmost power, giving him the ability to stop if he needs to, to say no, to step back. Shiro knows he’s never had this power before. It’s something he needs. 

 

He’s still dressed in a silk, black dressing gown and a pair of boxer briefs. Comfortable but clearly alluring. It’s the same ensemble he had been wearing when he had made a video call to Shiro while he was in a meeting at work. Shiro clearly hadn’t been expecting such a surprise. He’d fallen for the trap and answered it, much to Keith’s delight. 

 

Keith glances up at Shiro, submission momentarily replaced by mischief. Hair still falling messily in his eyes, his lips twitch into a smirk. It fades, however, the moment Shiro steps behind him, wrapping the ties of Keith’s dressing gown around his slight frame. He’s encaptured now, Keith knows. A dusty pink rises along the flesh of Keith’s cheekbones. He leans and melts back into Shiro’s chest as the ties are pulled in a jerking grip. 

 

“You know what I’d like to do to you after your little stunt today?” Shiro’s lips are at Keith’s ear now, his hot breath growling a whisper that sends a shudder running through Keith’s entire body. 

 

“Might have an idea,” Keith breathes out. 

 

“Safe words?” 

 

“Green. Yellow. Red, Sir,” Keith replies slow, however, immediate. 

 

Shiro reaches up, fisting a handful of Keith’s dark hair. Shiro knows it had been washed that morning, the soft fibre of it reminds him of their roles here. He pulls Keith’s head to the side, mouth still at his ear. “I’d like to pin you to my desk, tie you down. I’d like to keep you there so you can’t do anything but lie there and writhe while I lick you from balls to ass and open you up on my fingers.” His right hand slips down the front of Keith’s chest, under the fabric of the dressing gown. He’s certain that if it wasn’t for his prosthetic, he’d be shaking just as much as Keith is in this moment. It’s in these intimate moments though, that Shiro is so grateful for Keith, that he still asks for his dominant despite Shiro being battered and broken. He loves Keith, he does, for showing him that he’s still worthy of the title. 

 

Shiro’s finger’s catch the nub of Keith’s nipple and the barbell pierced through it. He pinches, twists, flicks it, receiving the gorgeous sounds of Keith’s whines. This is shortly followed by desperate bucking of his hips up into nothing that will give him any kind of relief. Shiro revels in the sight before he slides his hand down further over trembling muscle, down to his crotch, cupping Keith’s already-hard, cotton-covered cock. 

 

Keith is frozen now, his grey eyes burning with a lustful haze. Shiro’s breath shakes as he witnesses the puddle of the man in his arms lose all inhibition. Shiro’s words are strong though, despite himself. 

 

“What was that spectacle about, hm?”

 

“Wanted you to come home, Sir,” Keith all but whimpers, chasing Shiro’s hand as he slips inside the front of Keith’s boxers. Shiro cups his balls, squeezing a little. Keith pants, breath ragged and desperate now. 

 

“Wanted everyone in my office to see who owns me, hm?” Shiro hums as his left hand moves to the base of Keith’s throat. His other hand, buried in cotton, shifts and drags a trail to where he grips a muscled cheek of Keith’s ass and spreads him apart. 

 

“Y-yes,” Keith says breathily before another involuntary whine escapes his lips. 

 

“Look at yourself,” Shiro hisses. He wants to look at Keith like this for eternity. Keith does as he’s told, cheeks flushed, embarrassed. “You let everyone think you’re in control, but I know what it is you need,” Shiro half-snarls. 

 

His lips trail down now from Keith’s earlobe to his neck where he kisses and sucks before he sinks his teeth into delicate skin. The intent to mark is clear. 

 

“And what the fuck do I need?” Keith hisses out. 

 

“You, my beautiful, mouthy boy, need to be used and fucked by me who knows that you’re just a spiteful, needy thing who won’t stop until my attention is all on  _ you _ .” Shiro’s voice is low, dark, and commanding. He lets his thumb wonder, rubbing and circling it against the puckered skin of Keith’s entrance. He lets his finger sink in, just a little before he slides his thigh between both Keith’s legs. 

 

Keith all but jumps up onto his toes, jerking, unable to control the rock of his hips as he chases the feeling of being filled, chases completion. His heart races, his breath catches, his body flutters and strains around Shiro’s finger before he gives in, body collapsing and sinking down onto Shiro’s thigh. Another whine escapes him followed by a moan as Shiro rims his insides with his thumb. 

 

He’s close. From this alone, he’s close. Shiro sees the signs, feels the way Keith’s body tenses around him. 

 

“You’re a helpless mess, let me look after this for you,” Shiro whispers. 

 

“Please,” is all Keith can manage. 

 

Shiro draws away, stops, and stands up. He leaves Keith shaking and needing so much more.

 

“Get on the bed, hands and knees,” he says simply. 

 

Keith snarls and curses his name. 

 

He obeys. 

**Author's Note:**

> comments fuel this trashfire


End file.
